One Night at the Winter Palace
by red wild sparkles
Summary: A year after defeating Corypheus, the Inquisition is invited to another ball. What could possibly happen? Suitors seek the Inquisitor's hand in marriage, couples emerge amongst all the DA companions, and through it all Cullen frets, even as Cassandra gives him plenty else to think about. Chapter 5: Final surprises abound. Complete!
1. Chapter 1: Countless Suitors Invited

A/N: This ball (ha!) of fluff takes place about a year after DAI and my other two stories, "Fondest, Blindest, Weakest" and "Clasping of Hands," but it can be read on its own. Thank you so much for reading, I'm so happy you're here!

* * *

 **Chapter One: Countless Suitors Invited**

Cullen looked out the carriage window.

"Cullen, relax," the Inquisitor said.

He looked back guiltily. "I was just taking in the view."

"No, you were looking to see if we were being followed. For the fourth time in ten minutes."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be so obvious."

"You were even worse yesterday," Blackwall said. "Perhaps by the time we get to Halamshiral, you'll be worn down to normal."

The Inquisitor laughed. Cullen said, "How are all of you so calm about this? The previous ball was a tactical nightmare."

"It was also probably the most fun I had last year," the Inquisitor said. "Exposing the villainous Duke Gaspard, dancing with the traitorous Grand Duchess Florianne… I doubt things will be half as exciting tomorrow."

"The Inquisition still has enemies. Many oppose our efforts to aid the people and rebuild what Corypheus destroyed. The ball would be a perfect opportunity for someone to strike at us while we're gathered."

"I suppose we could turn around. But here I thought you couldn't wait to see Cassandra again," the Inquisitor said, smiling.

Cullen felt his face grow warm. "I just meant that we need to stay vigilant. Anything can happen at an event like this."

"I should hope so!" the Inquisitor said. "Leliana and Josephine say that most of these parties are terribly dull. We're going to be stuck for hours with a large company of nobles who want nothing more than to show off their fancy clothes and gossip behind pillars. Nothing is going to happen."

"Maker's balls!" Varric yelled, looking up from the parchment he'd been busily filling with his surprisingly elegant, looping handwriting.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch that," Blackwall said. "Could you repeat that louder?"

Ignoring him, Varric said, "Haven't any of you heard of the law of narrative causality? The surest way to land in shit is to say that it's not going to happen."

The Inquisitor chuckled. "How would you prefer the story to go?"

"I get mobbed by my adoring fans, you meet a prince and live happily ever after, Curly and the Seeker distract each other enough that they finally get off our backs…"

Cullen felt his face grow even hotter. "Cassandra and I have duties to perform. We are not going to distract each other."

"Hey, remember what I just said about the law of narrative causality?" Varric winked. "Besides, a ball at the Winter Palace sounds kind of romantic. I hear Cassandra likes that kind of thing."

"And," the Inquisitor chimed in, "Leliana and Josephine have been taking her shopping in Orlais. I'm sure you'll manage to be a little bit distracted."

Cullen looked away, defeated. He realized that for the duration of their conversation, he really had forgotten to be anxious about the Inquisitor's safety. Cassandra was distracting him already, and she wasn't even here. With her in front of him, he wouldn't have a chance.

* * *

They stopped at an inn that evening. After supper, Blackwall and Varric went off to check on the horses, while Cullen and the Inquisitor sat by the fireside, reading. Varric had asked them look over the chapter he'd written, but as absorbing as it was, Cullen could tell that the Inquisitor's mind was elsewhere. After a moment, he said lightly, "So, are you hoping to meet a prince?"

She sighed, dropping the cavalier front she'd put on earlier in the carriage. "I expect I will, whether I want to or not. Josephine's probably rounded them up by the dozen, along with most of the other bachelors in Thedas. Does everyone know that's the real reason why we're going this year?"

"Probably not," Cullen said. "You would have been expected to attend, in any case. But to answer your question, I don't believe Josephine's efforts have escaped Blackwall's attention."

She sighed again. "Has he said anything to you?" she asked timidly.

"I don't think he's said anything to anyone. He wouldn't be Blackwall if he had."

Immediately Cullen winced at his words, but the Inquisitior broke into a lopsided grin.

"He lied to all of us about his identity," she said. "I liked him then. He gave himself up to save another man's life, then I saved his. I like him still. Am I simply playing into his hands again?

Cullen, who'd been less willing to overlook Blackwall's deception, even as he liked the man, said awkwardly, "Love is a little like that sometimes."

She laughed ruefully. "Always wondering if you've made terrible mistakes?

"That's just life," he said. "Love is staying with the same people through it all."

She looked down at Varric's pages in her lap. "We've never said a word about it. I think we're both rather confused. He wasn't what I was expecting," she said in a small voice.

"He probably wasn't expecting you either," Cullen said, trying to be fair. "No one expects the leader of an Inquisition."

She made a face. "No one except for every suitor who will be at the Winter Palace. Oh, that's not what bothers me. Blackwall and I aren't anything, why shouldn't I meet a few other blokes? And Josephine's trying so hard to help me. She thinks I must marry, that I must want to marry. She's like a mother who won't rest until she's cleared all her daughters out of the house."

"Perhaps she's just bringing in suitors so she can keep the best ones for herself," Cullen teased.

"She's welcome to them. I just wish she wouldn't rush me in the process."

"You don't have to feel rushed. You're still very young."

"And a lot younger than Blackwall, I know," the Inquisitor said dully. "Well, I suppose I should let Josephine have her fun. Who else is she going to play matchmaker to? Cassandra married you, Leliana has taken vows…"

"Chantry vows?"

"Something like that. Josephine wasn't very specific."

"I see," Cullen said neutrally. He knew Josephine hadn't been specific because she didn't know that Leliana had in fact exchanged vows – wedding vows – with none other than the Hero of Ferelden. That was eight years ago, just as Leliana joined Justinia as her Left Hand. Cassandra had performed the ceremony. There were no witnesses, and with Justinia gone, Cullen was certain that he and Cassandra were the only people who knew.

The Inquisitor went on, half to herself, "Maybe I'm just not ready. When will I know when I'm ready?"

"When you stop asking that," Cullen said, smiling. "You'll know. For tomorrow night, just try to enjoy yourself. And I'll try not to worry so much."

* * *

They arrived in Orlais early the morning of the ball, but there was much to be done. Josephine met them and rushed the Inquisitor off to her dressmakers. Varric went to have lunch with his Orlesian publishers, leaving Cullen and Blackwall to head to the tailors' together. Their formal attire was waiting for them there – Josephine having sent their measurements ahead – but they still had to be fitted and fussed over for hours. Orlesian custom dictated that they should pass the time sipping tea, eating little morsels of confectionary, and chatting in the front parlor, where a large window ensured that they were on display to all passing in the street. Several other men were in the parlor there already, talking excitedly about meeting the Inquisitor. Blackwall sat in a corner, moodily working his way through a bowl of pink sugared almonds. He made such a gloomy picture that Cullen almost had to laugh. The man was more than capable of hiding his emotions when he wanted to. Perhaps, Cullen thought, he no longer wanted to conceal his true feelings.

"So we're to have different outfits this year," Cullen said casually, when the other men had left. "You know, it was the Inquisitor's idea that we should all dress identically the last time, so we looked like allies. Or a very odd company of dancers."

"It was a good idea," Blackwall said at once.

"She'd appreciate knowing that. You've always been keen to lend her your support," Cullen said encouragingly. When Blackwall refused to take the bait, he said, "She's told me that she's quite fond of you."

At this, Blackwall stuffed an entire handful of sugared almonds into his mouth and looked away. He was saved from further conversation by another group of men entering the shop, but Cullen resolved to have another talk with him at the next opportunity. He wondered if Cassandra was also having to go around giving relationship advice. Anyone brave enough to ask her would get excellent counsel. He'd learned everything he knew from her, after all.

Thinking of Cassandra made him smile, even as he ached to see her again. Since helping to defeat Corypheus almost a year ago, the two of them had remained with the Inquisition, reducing their duties in order to pursue their own work at the same time. Both of them left Skyhold frequently, she to rebuild the Seekers of Truth, he to oversee their soldiers' relief efforts. But more often than not, they were able to travel together. It had been a while since she'd been gone without him, and he missed her terribly.

All afternoon and into the evening, his thoughts strayed to her no matter how often he chided himself. Before he knew it, he was with the other three again, headed up the path to the Winter Palace. The line stretched far into the night, as each carriage's occupants were announced and fawned over with great fanfare. Only Varric looked completely at ease in his circumstances and formal attire. Blackwall was fidgety, while Cullen kept touching his side to feel for a sword that wasn't there. The Inquisitor was the worst of all. She kept trying to run her hands through her hair and, finding it arranged in delicate coils atop her head, swearing loudly because she wasn't supposed to touch it. She was rather dauntingly dressed dressed in an elaborate silvery ball gown decked out in diamonds, or something like them. Her skirt's girth actually exceeded the width of the carriage, forcing both her and Varric seated beside her to keep very still.

"I can't move. My ass is numb," she complained, as their carriage lurched forward and came to a stop again, without really bringing them any closer to the gates.

"Keep saying things like that and even Ruffles won't be able to get you hitched to anyone," Varric said cheerfully.

Blackwall opened his mouth and closed it again. The Inquisitor said fiercely, "Good. Maybe I don't want to be hitched to anyone."

Cullen felt a pang of alarm. He'd come around to feeling sympathetic towards Blackwall. Maybe that was why getting fitted for clothes had to be so onerous – out of battle, people needed some other trial to bond them together. "Of course you don't want to be with just anyone," he said soothingly. "That doesn't mean that you can't consider anyone at all."

Varric, catching Cullen's eye, said, "Curly's right. Sometimes the right person is just under your nose." Blackwall, who was sitting directly across from the Inquisitor, coughed. "You know. Old friends, traveling companions. Handsome dwarves," he added, after Cullen gave him a warning look.

Blackwall and the Inquisitor both broke into oddly similar, strained laughter, going quiet at the same time. An awkward silence descended. "Varric, why don't you read us the latest chapter from your book?" Cullen said in desperation.

"Uh, maybe not such a good idea."

"Go on, Varric," Blackwall and the Inquisitor said together.

That was so bad that Varric immediately reached under his seat for his pile of papers. Looking flustered, he began, "The Knight-Captain sighed, her ample bosom heaving as she shivered under – "

"Maker's breath," Cullen blurted out. "Isn't there anything else?"

"I can skip ahead to the end of the chapter," Varric said quickly. He shuffled his papers, and Cullen noticed that the last page ended midsentence. He hadn't finished it. "Here we go," Varric said, with forced enthusiasm. "The Knight-Captain, along with, uh, the Knight-Captain-in-Training, thought they had cleaned up the rough streets of Hightown. Little did they know that, um, the _previous_ Knight-Captain was behind it all…"

What followed was a muddled account of no fewer than seven Knight-Captains, one of whom was thought to be dead, one of whom was actually undead, and two of whom were revealed to be posing as each other."The end," Varric said abruptly as they finally pulled up to the main entrance, actually giving the Inquisitor a push from behind when she struggled to fit through the carriage door.

There were cries of admiration, especially from the Orlesians. "Ah, the Inquisitor! She is like the moon and the stars!" a voice called out shrilly. "Dipped in silver, bathed in the radiant mists of twilight…"

Behind him, Blackwall made a strained noise. Cullen almost turned around to console him, but then his eyes fell on a vision that made him stop in his tracks.

Cassandra was standing beside the Inquisitor, looking far from pleased to be at another ball. But she turned and saw him then, and smiled.

Her neck and shoulders were bare. Cullen instantly longed to run his hands over every line and curve he could see. He slowly let his gaze drop lower. She wore a dress of shining gold that started teasingly at the very edge of her shoulders, tapering in around her slender waist. The gold tulle skirt stretched all the way to the floor, and words failed him completely when it came to describing the way it moved when she walked, hips swaying beguilingly. As much as he loved seeing her in armor, he'd always dreamed about what she'd look like in a dress. His imagination had fallen far, far short of what he was seeing now.

He was only aware that he'd moved towards her when he found himself right by her side. Up close, she was almost too dazzling to look at. There was gold braided through her hair, too, and in the deepening twilight it winked at him beguilingly. He bowed, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Just the slightest touch of her skin sent heat flooding through his body. Her lips were dark red, very much like the shade that her cheeks flushed when she was ready for him, begging for him… Now, in this moment, he would have begged her to let him give her anything she wanted.

"You are here," she said, smiling. "One good thing has happened tonight."

"Cassandra," he breathed. "Sweet merciful Maker. It's been so long since I've seen you."

She let out a low chuckle. "Cullen, it has been four days."

"Exactly," he said feelingly. "It's going to be so difficult not to keep you all to myself."

"You know I have to stay by her side," she said, nodding towards the Inquisitor. "Even if this is the last thing I thought I'd ever be doing. Custom dictates that a married woman needs to act as her chaperone. I would not be here otherwise." She made a disgusted noise. "I have to try to look respectable."

He leaned closer towards her. "Is that so? Then why am I having so many obscene thoughts of you?"

She blushed, delightfully. They'd been married almost a year, and he felt proud that he could make her blush as easily as she did during their earliest days together. "Cullen," she said warningly.

The frown hadn't left her face. Even so, Cullen imagined sweeping her up in his arms and tucking her into the carriage. Shutting the door, and not having to care for another instant where they were, and what they were supposed to be doing… He actually had his hands around her waist before she discreetly slipped them off. "Not the dress, please. Maker knows how many more hours it needs to stay in place."

He held her hands. "You sure I can't change your mind?"

She pulled back and looked away. "We are beginning to hold up the line."

He suppressed a sigh. "This is going to be a very long evening."

"That much is certain," she said grimly. "I have had to attend a great many of such functions in Navarra, and with Justinia. Absolutely nothing happens. Except…"

Resting one hand on his shoulder, she kissed him on the cheek.

"Once in a while, if you are lucky, you find yourself in very appealing company."

With that, she turned and walked briskly back to the Inquisitor, dispersing the small crowd that had gathered so the other woman could go inside. Cullen watched her weakly. He couldn't look away.

"Narrative causality," Varric said, suddenly beside him. "Gets you every time."

"I can live with that," Cullen said, as he and Varric followed Cassandra into the Winter Palace.

* * *

A/N: I owe a debt here to OrilliaOrange for invoking the dangers of narrative causality in "Suite Romance"!

If you could spare a moment to comment, I'd love to hear from you! Thanks again, and enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2: Some Diplomacy Attempted

**Chapter Two: Some Diplomacy Attempted**

Cullen had attended plenty of balls before – there had been a fair number of fancy gatherings like this in Kirkwall – but this was the first time he didn't have much of a mission. Leliana's finest intelligence hadn't turned up a single threat. It was as though all of Thedas, worn out from the threat posed by Corypheus, had decided to set aside their quarrels and intrigue for one night.

Was it so impossible to believe that this was a simple social occasion, nothing more? At best, the Inquisitor was here to find a suitable husband, maybe. She didn't need a delegation with her for that. Cullen suspected she simply wanted company for moral support.

Good use of an Inquisition, Cullen thought, unsure if he was being sarcastic or serious. Probably a bit of both. Inquisition humor was rubbing off on him.

At this point, though, their role was largely decorative. Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine were very capably steering the Inquisitor from one gentleman to the next. Varric had in fact been accosted by several loyal readers, and judging by the crowd he was currently regaling, he was winning over many more. Only Cullen and Blackwall hovered together uncertainly, with little to say to each other but no real reason to split up.

"Is it just me, or are people giving me strange looks?" Cullen said in a low voice, after a moment.

Blackwall considered him for a moment, studying his face. Then he shrugged. "Last year you were one of Thedas' most eligible bachelors. Now you're the husband of Cassandra Pentaghast. Even these people notice things like that."

It seemed true, and at the same time, not quite right as an explanation. A minute later, he felt someone else staring at him – a woman with strikingly blue eyes and rather little tact. He blinked, and realized it was Hawke. With her was Fenris, holding a glass of wine in each hand. Presumably one was Hawke's, but that wasn't necessarily the case.

Hawke, evidently feeling guilty for having been caught staring, said far too jovially, "Commander Cullen! It's you!"

"Hawke, Fenris," he said, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. "What brings you here tonight?"

Fenris drew himself up in indignation, though the effort caused him to sway a little. "Why shouldn't we be here? We were invited."

"We were?" Hawke said.

"Hush, love," Fenris said benignantly. "In any case, we just came to dance. They can't have us thrown out for that."

"We're fantastic dancers," Hawke said confidently.

"I look forward to watching you," Cullen said, unable to suppress a smile. "Until then." He hurried off, leaving the two of them to their tipsy logic.

Cullen wondered if the Inquisitor would devolve into that level of eccentricity, given time. Did that happen to heroes? He thought of Leliana's Grey Warden husband, a complete recluse, searching for years for a way to reverse the Calling – an impossible task if there ever was one. But then, Cassandra was the same, just irritable if anyone brought up the fact that she'd once saved Divine Beatrix from an army of dragons. Perhaps fame only intensified who you already were, forced it out into the open.

He looked across the room for Cassandra, missing her so much that it made his chest hurt. She was dealing with a stooped, elderly man who was trying to attract the Inquisitor's attention. Telling him to move on.

Cullen smiled to himself. The line between hilarity and absurdity was a thin one in Orlais, and it seemed that not everyone could see it. No wonder Cassandra hated these things so much.

A bell rang, and the crowd rearranged itself to make way for the official presentations. This year, the Inquisition's official delegation was only a party of two – one that just so happened to comprise of the woman who'd saved Queen Celene along with most of Thedas, along with one Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast-Rutherford.

Cullen beamed as Cassandra stepped forward and curtsied, graceful as always. Ever measuring up to the task at hand, however she felt about it. Afterwards, conversing in a smaller group with Celene and several Orlesian nobles, she still looked achingly beautiful. She was also beginning to look quietly murderous.

A servant passed by, carrying a tray loaded with champagne flutes. Cullen took two quickly and, holding them aloft, made eye contact with Cassandra across the room. She regarded him stonily for a moment, then bent to whisper in Josephine's ear. The other woman nodded, and Cassandra ducked out of the group, reappearing by Cullen's side.

"You look like you could do with some air," he said. "Shall we step outside?"

"Just for a moment," she said curtly, but she looked relieved.

They walked out to a balcony overlooking the central courtyard, the leaves of the trees shining darkly and the fountains splashing diamonds on the tiles. He passed Cassandra a glass, and she tipped it back, breathing deeply between sips. Her lipstick left the imprint of her lips on the rim of the glass.

"What do you think of the suitors so far?" he asked in a low voice. They weren't alone on the balcony; the people here could know the suitors, or be among the suitors themselves.

Cassandra was silent for a moment. She finished her champagne and set the glass down with a determined clink. Cullen sensed she was trying to find a diplomatic answer, for once. The ball must really be having a powerful effect on her. "None of them is an assassin," she said at last.

"I'm looking a bit more favorably upon Blackwall myself," Cullen said, only half joking.

Her lip curled. "I do not like liars."

"You like Varric now," Cullen teased.

"That is different," Cassandra snapped. "He is not making advances towards the Inquisitor. If he did, I would break both his legs."

"And you would look very beautiful doing it in this dress," Cullen said softly.

She glowered at her empty glass. "My shoulders ache, I can barely breathe, running is quite impossible… And it was a dreadful ordeal getting it on."

"Oh?"

She smiled then, a trace of her good humor returning. "Oh, yes. I'll be very glad when you take it off."

"Mm, I have considered it," he said. "But I'm enjoying it so much right now."

He took a step back to drink in the sight of her. She scowled fiercely. "Stop teasing me. You really brought me out here just to talk?"

He grinned. "If I'm not allowed to touch…"

She seized him by the collar and kissed him. He let his hands roam over her body then, heedless of who might be watching. He could feel the hollow curve of her spine through that glorious gown, a welcome difference from her usual armor. The stays on the back of her dress were tied tightly, but they ended in a soft golden bow that positively cried out to be undone. He made a mental note to return to it later. Though the sheer volume of her skirt kept him from getting as close as would have liked, he made sure to be attentive to every inch of her that he could reach, which was a great deal, and yet nowhere near enough.

Distantly, a bell sounded. Cassandra pulled back. "Damn it," she said, panting. "The dancing is about to start. I have to go."

He released her, reluctantly. She glared at him. "You don't know what it does to me, to see you like this." She gestured to his own clothes, slightly wrinkled now.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Cullen said gravely. "Should I leave?"

Cassandra looked as though she couldn't decide if she should kiss him or hit him. In the end, she did both. "Don't you dare. You are the only reason why any of this is bearable."

"The night is young. Anything could happen. You might even have a little fun," he said cheerfully, and Cassandra made a disgusted noise as they headed back towards the ballroom arm in arm.

* * *

A/N: If you could spare a moment to comment, I'd really love to hear from you! Hope you're enjoying this, and thanks again for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: Skyhold Wine Criticized

**Chapter Three: Skyhold Wine Criticized**

The first dance went to Empress Celene and Queen Anora, the two sole regents of their land. Their hatred of each other was well-known, but still, they cut a fine figure together. It was not so much deception as showmanship, Cullen thought. It wasn't as good as friendship, but wasn't it better than war?

Soon, everyone was dancing. Vivienne, the very image of courtly perfection, waltzed past with Bastien. Since the Inquisitor had fetched him the heart of a snowy wyvern, he'd made more than a good recovery. Fenris and Hawke swooped by, cutting a wide swath through the dancers. He was astoundingly good, while she was really terrible, but the pair was laughing and enjoying themselves so much that anyone could see they were perfectly matched.

He danced once with Sera, who kept up a constant stream of chatter throughout. But oddly enough, no one else seemed interested in dancing with him. Some women seemed alarmed to see him; many more giggled and quickly looked away. While he knew Cassandra wouldn't be offended to see him dancing with someone else, he was happier to avoid the problem altogether.

Thinking he would take a break – and perhaps find a drink – he slipped out of the ballroom. But as he was leaving, movement caught his eye.

In an adjoining room hung with paintings and trophies, two dwarves were slow dancing, cheek to cheek. It was Varric and Bianca. The two looked solemn, but not sad. Bianca leaned over to whisper something in Varric's ear. He smiled gently as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Perhaps he'd been right after all, Cullen thought in wonder. Here, tonight, anything could happen…

He wanted them all to be happy, Cassandra most of all. But he'd been wrong, he thought wryly, to think that music and dancing and finery would be enough for her. Cassandra needed more than magic. She needed something true.

He bit his lip, wondering what he could say to her.

* * *

In the annex, he saw Cassandra standing a distance away from the Inquisitor, her arms folded. The Inquisitor was talking to a mustachioed man, taking a step back each time he leaned forward. Cullen went up to a servant and took two glasses of wine from his tray, moving close enough to hear their conversation as he did so.

"So what do you like about Orlais?" the Inquisitor was asking, trying to be polite.

"You, my lady," he simpered.

Behind the suitor's back, Sera appeared. She mimed throwing up, and then flailing about in the imaginary vomit. For once, Cullen entirely agreed with her. "Thanks, you," she said, taking one of the glasses from his hand.

He'd intended on giving at least one to the Inquisitor, but perhaps she needed her wits about her. Still, Cullen could think of someone else who could do with a drink. In a far corner of the room stood Blackwall, positively skulking. He accepted the glass Cullen offered him, and held it up to the light to show him the color.

"It's a Skyhold vintage," Blackwall said. "Grown from grapes Maker knows who had time to cultivate last year. Another one of the Inquisitor's notions. She said that was her idea of a better garden."

"Hard to argue with that," Cullen said. "How is the wine?"

"Terrible," Blackwall said gloomily, though it didn't stop him from gulping down another mouthful.

In the ballroom, the music stopped. "Is the dancing over?" Cullen asked.

"Only the first set. There will be others. Next comes a long period of mingling, and finally all the announcements at the end. Celene will knight the new chevaliers, nobles will declare their successors. Perhaps the Inquisitor will even announce an engagement or two," he added unhappily.

"Are you going to do anything about it either way?" Cullen asked.

When Blackwall didn't reply, Cullen said, "She likes you. Isn't that worth something?"

Blackwall raised his glass. "Not all of her ideas are good ones."

"For the Maker's sake, don't be so melodramatic!" Cullen burst out.

It didn't help. Blackwall said, in exactly the same tone of voice, "She's the Inquisitor. She can't be with just anyone. Least of all someone with as much as a past as I have. I can't ask her to make that choice."

"Of course you can ask," Cullen said firmly. "The choice is still hers to make. And you'll help her make it by letting her know how you feel about her."

Blackwall cast a long, searching look at the Inquisitor across the room. By sheer chance _(here, tonight, anything can happen)_ she turned to look at him at exactly the same time. They both colored furiously and looked down at their feet.

"Good," Cullen said. He hoped it really was. "Now go over and talk to her. About Skyhold wine, if you must. Be honest with her about it. She could probably do with a laugh."

Cullen watched Blackwall go, looking almost as bad as he had when he'd faced execution. Maker, but why did love have to be so convoluted? And why – he was still thinking of what he'd say to Cassandra afterwards – was it making him spout every cliché in the book?

* * *

"I see what you did there," a deep voice rumbled.

Cullen turned to find Iron Bull smirking at him. On his arm – and rather more tangled up with him besides – was a woman with dark hair and wicked golden eyes. She wore a teal dress cut so low in the front that it seemed calculated to give the impression of indecency.

Cullen shrugged. "The question is, did I do the right thing?"

Iron Bull chortled. "You Chantry types worry too much. True love is unstoppable." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "So is stupidity."

"It doesn't matter," the woman said. "They're both pretty fun."

The two exchanged treacly smiles.

"You two know each other?" Cullen asked, politely.

"Of course we do." The woman turned to Iron Bull. "I go by Isabela, by the way."

"Iron Bull," Iron Bull said. "Bull as in, grab the bull by the horns!"

Cullen groaned aloud, but he couldn't be heard over Isabela's giggles. "Wait a minute," she added. "I do believe I've heard of you. Did you once take out twenty men in a Lowtown tavern, after you drank twenty glasses of ale?"

Iron Bull's chest swelled. "The stories lie. It was closer to thirty, actually."

"And then you went marauding with that group, oh, what was their name…"

"The Chargers," Iron Bull said. "Just to name some of my recent history. And what of you, Isabela? You have the look of someone who's spent time at sea."

"Of late, I have been onboard a number of ships," she replied easily. "Sometimes they belonged to me. Ownership at sea is a tricky business. So hard to follow."

"Sounds like quite a tale."

"It is," Isabela said, and began telling it. When she was finished, Iron Bull reciprocated with an account of his own. Their stories kept growing, and with them, their evident respect for each other. Cullen only realized how long he'd been listening to them when he noticed the Inquisitor was gone. So was Blackwall, and so was Cassandra.

He considered asking Iron Bull and Isabela if they'd seen the others leave, but it was obvious now that they only had eyes for each other. "Excuse me," Cullen said, ducking out of the conversation. They kept right on talking, blissfully.

As Cullen quickly circled the perimeter, he wished he felt as carefree as they did. _It's probably nothing,_ he thought to himself. _It's a party, people move around…_

From a window, he spotted Josephine in a corner of the garden. She would know where the others had gone. Fighting the rising panic in his chest – _it's probably nothing, it's probably nothing_ – he descended the staircase to talk to her.

* * *

A/N: If you could spare a moment to comment, I'd really love to hear from you! Hope you're enjoying this, and thanks again for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: Tender Words Spoken

**Chapter Four: Tender Words Spoken**

Cullen was almost close enough to call out to Josephine when he realized that she wasn't alone. A slight elf was standing in the shadows, so naturally yet carefully hidden that Cullen instinctively spun around just to check if anyone else was concealed in the area.

"Josephine," Cullen said in an undertone, as he approached. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but have you seen the Inquisitor and Cassandra?"

Josephine jumped and give a little squeal. Some of the wine in her glass splashed onto the ground – Skyhold wine,Cullen noted wryly. However it tasted, it seemed to be doing its job. The Inquisitor would be proud.

It looked as though Josephine hadn't noticed much of the night's proceedings. It was shaping up to be quite the implausible night. As if to say the game was up, the elf smiled and shrugged, giving a slight bow. "Cullen, is it not? My name is Zevran Arainai."

"Your name sounds familiar, but I don't believe we've met," Cullen said.

"I helped destroy the House of Repose's contract. The one that so cruelly and unnecessarily bound the poor Montilyets."

"More than that," Josephine gushed. "He actually fought a duel to take the job from the person I originally awarded it to!"

"I was moved by the story of the lady in a plight," Zevran said modestly.

As he spoke, he put an arm around Josephine's shoulders. She giggled and cozied up to him. Inwardly Cullen smiled. She was all propriety (now, anyway); he was a born rogue. No wonder they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Josephine said confidentially, "Zevran is quite wanted in Orlais. But he snuck into the ball just to see me…"

"What choice did I have, after she had written me so many lovely letters mentioning she would be here?" Zevran interjected.

Josephine, looking suddenly flustered, went on, "Please don't say anything about me and Zevran just yet. I didn't want the Inquisitor, in particular, to feel left out. Or to think that I would place my own happiness before hers – even if that is what I'm doing," she lamented. "Oh, I sent out so many invitations for tonight! I thought I had issued too many, but perhaps it was not enough? Has she taken an interest in anyone?"

"Whatever happens tonight, Josephine, she will be fine," Cullen said, smiling. "Knowing that she has friends who care so much for her. Enjoy your evening. You've earned it."

* * *

The music had started up again when Cullen made his way back to the ballroom. There was still no sign of the Inquisitor or Cassandra. But Leliana stood off to one side, watching the rest by herself. There was an air of sadness about her, stronger for the contrast with the dancers below. For a moment, Cullen hesitated. No one else here knew that Leliana was effectively married to and separated from the Hero of Ferelden, for obscure reasons of their own. But tonight, anyone could see how alone she looked. For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Cullen grabbed two glasses of wine and brought them over.

"Looking for the Inquisitor and Cassandra?" she asked, before Cullen could even greet her. "They've gone with Celene and some of the others on a tour of the new wing of the palace."

"They'll be safe there?"

"Unless they perish from boredom." She accepted a glass, and with one ladylike sip depleted half of it. Her eyes surveyed the room, avoiding looking at Cullen directly.

"You seem weary," Cullen said.

She shrugged. "Just showing my age."

"That's not it." She looks as though her world has lost its possibilities, Cullen thought. He tried to think of a more positive way to phrase it. "It's as though you've achieved everything you wished here."

"Perhaps," Leliana said flatly. "Or perhaps not. There is always movement in the courts, but nothing ever changes. That was the way it was before me, and that is how it will be long after we are gone."

"The Great Game belongs to no one. Perhaps all this simply means is that you're meant to move on to other pursuits." He thought for a moment. "What business were you and Cassandra on in Orlais, before the rest of us arrived? Was it for the Chantry?"

For the first time, she gave him her full attention. "It was."

"New projects?"

"Among others." She paused. "We were looking into starting a Chantry establishment for girls."

Cullen blinked. "A school?"

"More than a school. A home where abandoned girls would be sheltered and cared for. Where they would be raised to fear no darkness and to love the Maker's light. Where they would grow strong, so no one could cast them into the gutter again." A fierce glow had come into her eyes. "It was Divine Justinia's dream. She meant for it to be her retirement project. Even in this I do only the work of others. And since my own undertakings never seem to bear any fruit…"

She sighed.

"But that is not really what aggravates me. In all things, I live to do the Maker's work. I only wish I could do it all." She smiled suddenly. "It seems there's a fight in me yet, after all. Thank you, Cullen. I appreciate you coming over to talk to me tonight." Her gaze shifted. "Cassandra has returned. I shan't detain you."

"I shouldn't leave you by yourself," Cullen said, but she waved him off.

"You've done enough for me tonight. We will speak again later, perhaps. Now go. Cassandra might punch a hole through a wall if I keep you for any longer."

* * *

Cullen quickly caught up with Cassandra, who was talking with a group of men whose style of dress indicated that they were from Nevarra. When they saw Cullen approaching, they rather quickly excused themselves and scattered. Cullen wondered, again, if there was something odd about his looks tonight. But Cassandra was looking at him expectantly – hopefully – and he dismissed those thoughts for the time being.

There were many, many suitors waiting for the Inquisitor, trying their best to seem like they weren't standing in line without also losing their place. But she seemed not to notice them – talking to Blackwall, doubling over with laughter.

Cullen touched a finger to his lips, and Cassandra nodded. Taking her hand, he led her outside to the gardens in front of the palace, where fewer people were gathered. Off to one side, there was a bower twined with embrium and Andraste's Grace. Cassandra lowered herself onto a bench with a sigh of relief. Cullen sat beside her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Maker take me," she said, after a long moment.

"No," Cullen answered. "I've waited all night to be with you. I won't allow it."

Cassandra laughed.

"It has been quite an evening," she said.

"It has," Cullen said. "I only wish you weren't miserable."

Her look turned to resignation. "Has it been so obvious?"

"Not nearly as obvious as it was last year," Cullen said, smiling gently. Cassandra glared at him, but she couldn't suppress a smile. "I know you better than to think you'd really be charmed by frilly dresses and dancing. Even if it is the stuff of romance novels."

She sighed. "Precisely. It is all very well to entertain as a fantasy. But trying to make believe that it is real is frivolous and unbecoming."

Cullen chuckled. "The Inquisitor's suitors are that bad?"

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. "It's more than that. I hate to see her in this position. Like a side of meat trussed up for the marketplace, after all she's done. Some women would consider it great fun, but I find it demeaning."

After a moment, she sighed. "I am sorry. I have been in a terrible mood. I had hoped you would not notice."

"Impossible," he said. "You're the only one I've been able to pay any attention to all evening."

Her eyes widened. He touched the side of her face. "I've been waiting to get you alone so I could tell you how much I love you. Not for how beautiful you look tonight, not for the light in your eyes or the sweetness of your smile, not even for how good you feel in my arms – though I love all that and more. I love you for the woman you are, and the man you've helped me become. I will love you every day for the rest of our lives, in sorrow and in joy, and everything in between. One night at the Winter Palace is not going to change that."

Cassandra squeezed his hand. She sighed, but it was a sigh full of contentment. "You are so much more than I deserve."

"I feel the same way." A moment went by before Cullen realized what he'd said. He blushed hotly. "About you, I mean! Maker, Cassandra, you're too much for me. I can't talk anymore."

"Then don't," she whispered, and kissed him sweetly.

* * *

Many minutes had gone by before Cassandra broke off suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

It was hard to hear anything above the feverish pounding of his own heart. But after a moment, Cullen nodded. "Sounds like soldiers." They were being extremely quiet. That they could be heard now meant two things: there were many of them, and they were very close.

Cassandra was already on her feet, hurrying back toward the palace. Cullen scrambled to keep up with her. "Did Leliana seem any different to you tonight?" she asked suddenly.

"She was somewhat melancholy," Cullen said. "Though I'm guessing that's not what you meant."

"I don't know what I meant," Cassandra said, frowning. "I only… All night I have had a feeling that something was going to happen."

Right then, as though an invisible bolt of lightning had struck, an uproar rose from within the palace. Glancing at each other, Cullen and Cassandra broke into a run. They reached the main doors just as the rest of the Grey Wardens arrived.

* * *

A/N: I can't believe I used the word "bower." When in Orlais! Thanks for reading this ridiculous fluff. One more chapter to go!


	5. Chapter 5: Final Surprises Abound

**Chapter 5: Final Surprises Abound**

Lord, help us to remember when we first met and the strong love that grew between us.  
To work that love into practical things so nothing can divide us.  
 _–Scottish wedding prayer_

The Grey Wardens were armed, but they didn't try to stop Cullen and Cassandra from entering the palace. Rushing into the ballroom, Cassandra halted suddenly.

"It's him," she said in disbelief.

The Warden from the Fifth Blight stood in the center of the room, his arms spread wide. Alistair stood at his side, with a full guard of Grey Wardens, sharp-eyed, healthy, and strong.

The Warden was addressing the room. "I have brought the Fereldan Grey Wardens here, under Alistair's command. They stand before you as free men and women, who no longer hear the Calling. Today, we are readier than ever to fight the darkness, because we carry it within ourselves no more."

Cullen felt Cassandra grip his hand hard. His own hand seemed to be trembling.

"Today, our hopes are realized in your hearing," the Warden continued. "It has been many years, but I have found a way to reverse the Darkspawn taint. The Blighted ages have come to an end!"

Cassandra was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear her above the cheers that rose from the crowd. He caught her up in a tight embrace. She was shaking, and he thought she might be crying. With Cassandra's arms around him, he felt tears wet his own cheek, and for the first time in the entire, incredible night, he was certain that he wasn't dreaming.

Eventually the roar subsided, and the Warden went on. "We have come to Orlais to seek out the rest of our order, and because I had to share the good news in front of all who have secretly, generously, aided me for so many years. For your gifts of gold and knowledge and safe passage, you will always have my thanks.

"To my oldest and dearest friends who are gathered here tonight, I am honored to be among you again.

"And finally – the first – Leliana."

The crowd parted around them, murmuring. In a trice, he had crossed the room and stood by her side. Cullen had never seen her truly shocked before, but there was no other way to describe how she looked now. Kneeling before Leliana, the Warden kissed her hand. "I dedicate this victory – along all the rest of my life – to you, my hands and my heart. Perhaps I could have done it without other people's support, but never without yours."

* * *

Later, when the crowd had returned to talking, and Cassandra had hurried off to have a private word with Leliana and the Warden, Cullen still stood fixed to the spot, reeling. The Blight had been a fact his whole life, as real as the sun in the sky. Now with this announcement, everything had changed.

"Maker be praised," he murmured aloud.

A voice behind him said, "Indeed. You missed all the other announcements. There were a lot of them, too."

It was Inquisitor. She was standing by herself, looking more like her usual cheerful self already. There was a large dent in the side of her skirt, as though a person had tripped and fallen on it – or possibly she had tripped and fallen on a person.

"I hope I missed none of yours," Cullen said anxiously.

"None of mine." She grinned. "To tell the truth, I'm quite relieved not to have been swept off my feet by some enigmatic stranger. It sounds like an alarming fate."

"To which many others have gladly succumbed."

"Not me. I'm the same as I was at the start of this enchanted evening. How about that?"

"So you're not here to tell me that you'll be secretly eloping with Blackwall?" Cullen teased, noticing her eyes beginning to stray to where the other man stood, talking with Sera.

She shook her head. "There's no rush. It looks like we're going to spend the rest of our lives together."

Cullen raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she said, confused.

"Nothing," he said, suppressing a smile. "Like you said, there's no rush."

* * *

He wanted to congratulate Leliana and the Warden himself, but there were too many people trying to get close to them. By contrast, the dance floor was almost empty.

Eventually Cassandra made her way back to him, her eyes bright. "I've never seen Leliana so happy," she said. "I couldn't think of a better thing to have happened tonight."

"It would be hard to compete with that. Still," Cullen said hopefully, as the musicians struck up a slow song, "could I have this dance?"

She looked amused. "And people give me a hard time for being fond of romance." Her lips curved up in a smile. "I suppose one dance is customary."

She accepted his hand and followed him out onto the dance floor. She danced with much more grace than she gave herself credit for – as it was with nearly everything she did. Hesitant at first, she gradually relaxed into his touch. Emboldened, Cullen dared to press a quick kiss to her lips. He was thrilled to see a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"Tell me, Cassandra," he said, smiling at her. "Are you actually enjoying yourself at a ball?

"If only because it is finally almost over," she said, smiling back. "But what does it even matter? Since I married you, I have wanted nothing else."

Too overwhelmed to speak, he leaned in and kissed her again. After a moment, she pulled him closer, deepening the contact. Her tongue touched his, a gentle pressure that made his whole body go weak. Soon they were kissing urgently, passionately, holding nothing back. The next song started up, and then the next. It was long past the upper limit of propriety when they finally broke apart.

"Pardon me," she said, not looking sorry at all. "I just couldn't behave myself any longer. Not when I'm so very much in love with you."

"In that case, you'll forgive me for doing this," he murmured. With that, he finally did what he'd been wanting to do all night – reached up and tugged on one of the long gold ribbons trailing down her back.

The bow that held them slid apart silkily. Cassandra gasped. "What are you doing?"

He wounded the ribbons around one finger. "Nothing, he said innocently, "in comparison to what I've thought about doing."

Cassandra cast a panicked glance down at her dress, which, as Cullen had predicted, hadn't shifted in the slightest. "And what would you have done if…" She trailed off, speechless with indignation.

"Taken off all my clothes and – " he grinned, "– given them to you, of course."

He tried to kiss her again, but this time she swatted him off. "We are leaving now," she said fiercely, her voice low. "And then you are going to let me in on those obscene thoughts that you've been so unkindly keeping to yourself all evening."

Keeping one hand on Cassandra's back protectively, Cullen concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. They kept bumping into each other as they stumbled down the palace steps – two of the Inquisition's finest, Cullen thought. "Will there be extra carriages?" he asked, remembering that he'd come here with three other people.

"We can find out later," Cassandra said slyly. "I was just shown some very nice empty rooms in the new palace wing that I think you should see right now."

By then they were halfway around the side of the palace. A hidden door opened onto a smaller ballroom that was like the inside of a diamond, with polished mirrors on the walls and covering the ceiling. As they walked through the room, their reflections filed around them, rippling from pane to pane.

The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight streaming in from the windows. Though he was surrounded by mirrors, it took Cullen a moment to realize that there was a mark on his face, right in the middle of his left cheek. Even in the half-darkness, he could see that it was unmistakably the outline of a kiss.

"Cassandra," he said, dreading the answer, "how long has this been here?"

"Since you arrived," she said innocently. "When I met you outside the carriage."

Cullen was aghast. "Is that why people have been giving me strange looks all night?" His mind raced, recalling all the people who'd looked at him and hadn't said a word. Blackwall, the Inquisitor, Hawke, Fenris, half of Thedas…

Cassandra reached over and gently touched the mark on his cheek. "You'll forgive me for wanting to remind everyone else that you are spoken for?" she asked, teasingly.

"I'll forgive you, since you asked nicely," Cullen said seriously. "But I think I'm going to make you beg for everything else."

"With pleasure," Cassandra whispered, as they wound their way up the stairs together.

Some of the best things in life are surprises. The rest are the things that are surest and most secure. And true love is always a little bit of both.

* * *

A/N: "The upper limit of propriety" borrows from the wonderful "The Devotion of Soldiers" by AgapeErosPhilia. I loved that story so much that I had to write this one!

Thank you so, so much for reading!


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